


for a shallow breath of immortality

by Mornelithe_falconsbane



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Object Penetration, Orochimaru very deliberately breaking Sasuke down, Predicament Bondage, Size Kink, Stomach Bulge, Underage Sex, noncon, sexual grooming very flimsily disguised as actual training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21626365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mornelithe_falconsbane/pseuds/Mornelithe_falconsbane
Summary: The air is damp as winter rain, the scent of earth heavy on Sasuke’s tongue, and heavier still on his mind. It feels like a coffin down here, the single shaded candle behind him straining even Sasuke’s ability to see.
Relationships: Orochimaru/Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 7
Kudos: 249





	for a shallow breath of immortality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadowsapiens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsapiens/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Shadowsapiens!
> 
> Thanks for the beta, Masu_Trout!

All he can hear is his own breathing. 

He counts another breath, steady and precisely even. His face is dripping with sweat, his chakra hopelessly tangled around the seals painted over his spine. Another steady inhale, stopped precisely at five seconds, reversed for another five. The pattern is branded into Sasuke, so practiced that his lungs feel bruised.

It’s just breathing. Breathing and waiting. Breathing and waiting and counting.

In the academy he’d gotten full marks for his sense of time, but right now he’s not  _ sure _ . Sasuke is sick with it, the uncertainty. He needs to be right this time.

Sweat drips down his cheek, falls down the slope of his neck and gathers in the hollow where his collarbones meet. Sasuke adds five seconds to his count, and breathes in. 

He’s ten seconds short of fifteen thousand when the alarm goes off. Sasuke’s mind goes blank, the count lost as the beeping invades his hearing. The ropes over his shoulders ache, the metal disks at the bottom of them clacking gently against each other as he breathes. The rock he was supposed to drop the second before the timer went off is still between his palms.

Sasuke drops it now, his hands so tense and cramped that he can’t even straighten his fingers.

He manages not to startle as Orochimaru chuckles from behind him, low and satisfied. He’d seen Orochimaru leave through the only door four hours ago, but details like that one didn’t hold up anymore.

There’s an iron ball in his hands, about the size of his fist, heavier than the rock had been. He doesn’t remember picking it up. There’s no relief from this misery coming, just as there hadn’t been the two times before.

The air is damp as winter rain, the scent of earth heavy on Sasuke’s tongue, and heavier still on his mind. It feels like a coffin down here, the single shaded candle behind him straining even Sasuke’s ability to see.

The room is motionless as Orochimaru slithers through it, the sound of his robes somehow threatening. “The point of training is that you will try to succeed,” Orochimaru says softly. “Have you grown too comfortable to try, Sasuke-kun?”

One white finger touches the underside of Sasuke’s chin, a strange spot of sensation in a void, and Sasuke stops breathing as he waits.

Sasuke yields as Orochimaru gently tilts his chin up, the fractional shift in position throwing the weights on his shoulders back, sending Sasuke subtly off balance. It’s both purposeful and cruel, like most of Orochimaru’s training.

“I am willing, of course, to motivate you.”

A slither of nerves crawl under Sasuke’s skin, but his choices are...poor. “Hn.”

Orochimaru smiles and Sasuke’s heart beats like a trapped animal’s. “I was so hoping you’d say that.” He lifts the knotted and weighted ropes from Sasuke’s shoulders with the same ease that he’d draped them there fifteen hours ago, the barely there contact of his hands against Sasuke’s skin like bolts of lightning. “You may drop it.”

Sasuke releases the iron ball. It hits the ground and the three rocks piled there. The metal rings, sound rolling through the room slower than it ought to. 

Orochimaru’s an excellent teacher of math and Sasuke’s getting very good at calculating. What will he give up to get out of here faster? What will he give away to succeed? What’ll he do in exchange for water and food and sleep?

A smile like a curved razor spills over Orochimaru’s mouth. “At least you managed that.”

Sasuke doesn’t move. The relief of the weights removed is strangely painful, sparks and needles of sensation rolling over his nerves as  _ absence  _ echoes through them.

Orochimaru holds up a canteen, the dull black metal of it barely visible in the darkness. It sloshes when he shakes it. “You understand, Sasuke-kun, that needing this is a weakness.”

Sasuke makes a soft sound of assent, because he understands perfectly. He flutters his eyes shut, sees Itachi’s blood painted on his eyelids, and sighs softly. Patience. Sasuke’s better at it than anyone ever gives him credit for.

Orochimaru uncaps the canteen and sets it against Sasuke’s lower lip. Water trickles into his mouth, cool as his sweat but infinitely more refreshing. Sasuke swallows carefully, feels Orochimaru staring at him even through the shield of his eyelids. The water feels good.

The canteen pulls away long before Sasuke’s done, and he swallows the last mouthful of water before it can be taken from him.

“Your clothes are soaked with sweat,” Orochimaru observes with a certain pointedness that Sasuke hates.

There’s no purpose to protesting. Either he will do it or it will be done to him. 

Sasuke peels his shirt off, letting it drop to the floor with the faint hope that he’ll be able to retrieve it when he’s done. His shorts slide off his hips with barely any effort on his part, and Sasuke stands silently as Orochimaru studies him.

Orochimaru does not touch him. Orochimaru has never touched him.

“Close your eyes.”

The brush is cold as Orochimaru paints seals over Sasuke’s eyelids, the tiny ink-soaked hairs soft and tickling. He feels the burst of chakra as the twin seals activate, and when Sasuke opens his eyes he can see nothing at all.

A seal on his left wrist finds its match on his right, gluing his hands together behind Sasuke’s back.

He smells something flowery and faintly rotten as Orochimaru kneels in front of him to paint delicate, ticklish strokes over Sasuke’s ankles. These do nothing, the ink buzzing against Sasuke’s bone-dry chakra coils.

“Step back, Sasuke-kun.”

He does. Then again, the muscles in his legs cramping and knotted. He could flush the stiffness out with his chakra if it weren’t dammed inside his core. Sasuke’s not stupid enough to think that’s an oversight on Orochimaru’s part.

“When did you last eat?” Orochimaru asks from behind him. Sasuke didn’t hear him move. He never does.

Sasuke swallows, barely refraining from licking his lips nervously. “Two days ago.”

“You look so very thin today,” Orochimaru says, clearly pleased. “You must take better care of yourself.”

His stomach aches for food, but Sasuke says nothing. Food is dangerous. More dangerous than water. He’s not making that trade until he has to.

“Kneel,” Orochimaru says absently, the order given with a casual confidence in Sasuke’s obedience that leaves Sasuke feeling hollow. Uchiha are supposed to-- _ he’s _ supposed to be strong. Defiant to his death, though it’s better if it’s someone else’s death. 

He drops to one knee and the seals on his wrists jerk him toward the ground, his ankles dragged back to meet them like the seals are magnetized. Sasuke’s back bows to accommodate the position, though he barely feels the strain.

“You’ve proven terrible at this as well.” Orochimaru says, his voice so close that Sasuke flinches. “It is vital that a ninja knows their own limitations, Sasuke-kun, and so, I suppose, we must keep digging to see what you can actually manage.”

Somehow, the elusive promise that  _ finding _ Sasuke’s limitations might lead into Sasuke being trained to overcome them has never materialized. Instead every failure is a stepping stone to finding another, Orochimaru carefully grinding away every illusion Sasuke has ever had about his own abilities.

Sasuke’s not a good ninja. He never was. Konoha dressed him lies and praise, building him up into a paper-kage, but he’d never stopped being the second son.

“Come now, there’s no need to look so grim,” Orochimaru says. “You’ve made some progress. Not enough, I’m afraid, but certainly some.” He uses chakra strings to tug Sasuke’s knees apart, throwing Sasuke’s balance off in fractions.

Sasuke breathes into the stretch of his limbs, his body hurting and already tired from earlier. He’s still thirsty, damn it. Bound like this, his hands glued to the insides of his ankles, knees spread wide, his body a bowed line from his knees to his jaw, he’s perfectly vulnerable--every easy kill shot on offer.

Orochimaru hums thoughtfully, and there’s something nudging itself under Sasuke. Cold and blunt tipped, it’s been slicked up with something. Orochimaru is controlling it with chakra strings, Sasuke thinks.

“This is new to you, Sasuke-kun, so I’ve started you off small,” Orochimaru says, settling it under his hips, a bare inch from his ass. “This is a training aid--ah, I forgot one thing--”

The paintbrush returns, and Sasuke hates Orochimaru just a little. A few quick strokes with the brush and Sasuke’s hands are as glued to the rock under him as they are to ankles.

Sasuke doesn’t move. Whatever Orochimaru placed under him is tall enough to reach his ass from the ground, and he can’t envision the shape of it--it feels like a staff, except too short and thick. It’s about the length of his forearm if Sasuke’s judging the distance between him and the floor right.

“There, Sasuke-kun. A little help to keep you in place for this training.” The thought crawls up from Sasuke’s exhausted mind that this isn’t training. Orochimaru doesn’t intend to make Sasuke better with this, he’s just--

Orochimaru taps Sasuke’s hip, hitting a pressure point Sasuke hadn’t known was there. It’s a bright bloom of fresh hurt that startles Sasuke out of his balancing act. His hips collapse downward, the rod under him slipping against his skin and back before Sasuke is tugged into position by Orochimaru’s chakra strings.

Into position means the thick pole under him pressing at his asshole while Sasuke’s thighs shake as he tries to keep himself from sliding down on it. He realizes abruptly what the rod is, and what it’s for, a hot rush of startled shame and confusion leaving his chilled skin flushed red.

“No--” Sasuke chokes the words down, trying to slide back, or forward, anything to keep it from entering him. Orochimaru doesn’t tolerate backtalk. His squirming does nothing but tire his legs.

“Oh yes,” Orochimaru replies cheerfully. “It’s not too large, not yet, but it’s time you started to learn this as well.”

He makes it sound like a training plan, like Sasuke slowly collapsing onto a metal cock is roughly equivalent to target practice. Fury sparks in Sasuke, and without thinking he snaps, “What the fuck is this supposed to teach me?”

A soft, sibilant chuckle makes Sasuke’s teeth want to chatter, Orochimaru’s killing intent hitting him like a gutpunch. His legs are weakening, the metal dildo under him pressing thick and hard at the tightness of Sasuke’s hole. “Even if it seems useless now, I’m sure Itachi will appreciate the effort you put in, Sasuke-kun.”

Sasuke freezes, his blood running cold as he processes Orochimaru’s words as the insult they are. “Itachi would  _ never-- _ ” he can’t actually believe that he’s defending Itachi.

“Men will surprise you,” Orochimaru says, when Sasuke’s voice dies. 

Another swift tap on Sasuke’s other thigh, and Sasuke’s leg crumples under him, the tip of the metal cock forcing its way into his virgin body. The pain is blinding, and Sasuke makes a soft, shrill sound of pain as he tries desperately to maintain his balance.

“If you can take it down to the floor, Sasuke-kun, I will let you out of this room for a week.”

Sasuke grits his teeth and tries to drag himself up and off the cock. He’s  _ tired _ , the hours of waiting and counting leaving his body shaky and weak, and whatever Orochimaru had done to his legs is making jolts of electric pain buzz through him every time Sasuke tries to rise. He barely rises an inch on it, the slick dildo sliding easily inside him.

He holds there, shaking like a leaf in a storm before his legs weaken and Sasuke’s sliding down it again, the metal cold and brutally hard.

“Fucking yourself on it already? I was going to save that for next week.”

Sasuke’s face burns, his shoulders straining to keep him high enough. He’s shaking so much, violent tremors wracking his exhausted body. The fight is probably futile, Sasuke knows--every fight against Orochimaru is--but he can’t bring himself to give up.

“Deep breaths, Sasuke-kun, then push down. It’s a little big for you yet, but you’ll grow into it.”

He can’t  _ not _ breathe deeply, and the fact that it looks like he’s obeying Orochimaru makes Sasuke vaguely nauseous. “I don’t want this,” he says, his voice soft and small and like it was that night when he’d begged Itachi--

“If you don’t want it, then you must figure out how to escape it,” Orochimaru says in what Sasuke’s privately labeled his ‘sensei-voice’. Crooning and sticky and fake, Orochimaru uses it when he’s gleefully enjoying Sasuke’s pathetic failures. 

He’s shaking with the effort it takes to not slide down further, so it’s fair, Sasuke supposes.

“Do you need help?” Orochimaru asks. “I’m afraid I’m short on time today--I really expected you to complete the first exercise at some point. But I promise you Sasuke-kun, I won’t move an inch until you’ve managed to succeed.”

Sasuke snarls, his breath whistling through his teeth as his shaking body descends another fraction. The fresh metal spearing into him is cold, and it spreads him so wide that he’s almost afraid that he’ll tear.

“You’re getting hard, Sasuke-kun. Do you find you enjoy this kind of stimulation?”

Distraction costs Sasuke an inch or three, and he swears it’s getting wider. His body stretches around the thickness, metal sliding deeper than he’d ever thought was possible. Deep enough to feel like it’s pressing against the inside of his stomach.

He’s shaking and he can’t help it. His strength, whatever little of it he’d ever had, is long gone. He’s only not fully fucked on it from how tight he is--Sasuke can’t lift himself off it.

It  _ hurts, _ stretching Sasuke wide and deeper with each unsteady breath he takes. It’s definitely widening, but the tip feels like it’s bottomed out inside him--a strange and dull ache inside him, like Sasuke’s insides are deforming to accommodate the invasion.

Orochimaru laughs and Sasuke jolts, his back arching as the metal cock sinks further past the weak resistance of his body. His face feels wet.

“It slides in so easily, though,” Orochimaru says, and he sounds like he wants to take notes. “If you were in pain, Sasuke-kun, you’d keep it out of you.”

Sasuke bites his lip, shifting his weight back onto his wrists to try and keep himself from impaling himself deeper. There’s not much more of it to take, and it’s tempting--desperately so--to just shove himself down on it and be done with it, but if Sasuke has learned anything from Orochimaru--

“It hurts,” Sasuke says, pitching his voice high and weak.

He can hear Orochimaru’s breath catch, reads the signal in it easily.

“It--it won’t  _ fit _ ,” Sasuke adds, breathless and panicky (he tells himself he’s only acting). “It’s going to rip me open!” Even if it does, Orochimaru is terrifyingly good with medical jutsu. It’s futile to beg, except--

“It’s just a little more, Sasuke-kun. Won’t you do it for me?”

Sasuke tastes the salt on his lips, feels the tears tracking on his face, and thinks-- _ I won’t die of this. _

He rocks against the metal cock, feels it press so deep inside him that it’s hard to breathe. “Please,” Sasuke chokes out, and it feels mechanical, like he’s a windup doll programmed to say precisely these words after exactly three minutes of struggle.

“You want help, Sasuke-kun?” Orochimaru asks. Sasuke can’t see it, but he can envision the way Orochimaru’s head tilts as he speaks, his golden eyes shining in the dark like cursed coins.

He nods, jerkily, and is utterly unsurprised when Orochimaru’s hands wrap around his narrow hips and slowly force him downwards. Sasuke squirms, unable to breathe enough to scream, his entire world chipped away to be only the cold, greased metal impaling him.

“Just a little more,” Orochimaru breathes in Sasuke’s ear, and his hands are hot on Sasuke’s cold skin. The metal freezes him inside, cold contrast. “You’ve done so well, Sasuke-kun.”

The praise strikes Sasuke hard enough to make him shudder, and Orochimaru picks that second to force Sasuke down the last of it, the metal so thick that Sasuke gives a pained sob before he can stop himself. The metal narrows dramatically at the base, sudden sweet relief that Sasuke hates even more than the pain.

The back of his thighs brush the floor and Sasuke shivers, tears streaking down his face. Orochimaru’s hands are the warmest thing he’s felt in days, and he can’t quite hate how they’re wandering. 

Slow, disconcertingly gentle, Orochimaru rubs the stretched tight skin of Sasuke’s stomach. “We’ve finally found something you’re good at, Sasuke-kun.”


End file.
